


I'm Just Trying to Protect You

by failwolfhale



Series: I Can Trust You [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Derek didn't know Stiles cared so much, Drama, F/M, M/M, Self Sacrifice, Stiles always knew he'd do anything for the Pack, emotional distress, i cried writing it..., resignation, so many feels, well idk, you will probably cry
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-10-18
Updated: 2012-10-23
Packaged: 2017-11-16 14:00:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,122
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/540210
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/failwolfhale/pseuds/failwolfhale
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Trouble finds Stiles in the form of an arrest warrant that has been put out on him after his fingerprints, blood and/or Jeep had been seen/found at five different homicide crime scenes. </p><p>Inspired by this gorgeous post: http://kaciart.tumblr.com/post/32175367540</p><p>Cross posted to Tumblr and FFN</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Resignation

**Author's Note:**

  * For [http://kaciart.tumblr.com/](/gifts?recipient=http%3A%2F%2Fkaciart.tumblr.com%2F).
  * Inspired by [Kaciart Piece](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/12803) by kaciart. 



> **Fandom:** Teen Wolf (duh.)  
>  **Chapters:** 1/2  
>  **Pairings(Romantic or otherwise):** Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski, Stiles Stilinski/Sheriff Stilinski, Stiles Stilinski/Scott McCall  
>  **Words:** 2,697  
>  **Inspired by:** This gorgeous fucking post. *creys* kaciart . tumblr post/ 32175 367540 (I have permission from the artist to write this fic. The idea and art is hers and I only take credit for being allowed to take the basic idea and roll with it.)

Derek looked up from where he was breaking apart old wooden boards for firewood that had been lying around the warehouse as the door opened overhead and the _thump-thud-duh-dump_ of a familiar heartbeat met his ears. Actually it had met his ears about six miles ago, but he would never admit that it was so ingrained into his heart that he’d recognize it anywhere if he just listened hard enough. The boy slouched down the stairs lazily, hands shoved into the pockets of his jeans, but when he looked up Derek could see the inner turmoil in his beautiful whiskey gold brown eyes. Derek arched an eyebrow in question, standing up straight and wiping his hands over the dirty not-white-anymore undershirt.

Stiles pulled a boxy black walkie-talkie from his pocket in answer, pressing the button on the side with his thumb and allowing the tinny voice to fill the large empty space between them.

 _“Blue Jeep wrangler has been found on the side of interstate five…apparently abandoned…no trace of suspect…proceed with caution…suspect is thought to be armed and dangerous.”_ The voice of the dispatcher was shaky and uncertain. Stiles released his thumb and tucked the now silent device back in his pocket.

“I’m a wanted fugitive. There’s a warrant out for my arrest that my dad will have to serve me when he finds me. Because he doesn’t know anything about the fucking Alpha pack and that they’re the ones behind all this not me!” Stiles had tried to keep calm but somewhere between his first and last words his voice had risen to a shout, face burning red with anger. But just as soon as the fury had spiked, it died down again. “Please, Derek,” he pleaded. “Please just let me tell him. He can keep a secret, he can! Plus it might even benefit the pack to have someone on the force in the know so he can help. I mean, God, even Melissa knows now.”

“That couldn’t be helped. She was there that night in the station, Stiles.”

“SO WAS MY DAD!” Stiles was back to yelling, tears pricking his eyes. “So was my dad Derek and he coulda been fucking _killed_. He deserves to know what’s going on. He deserves to know what he needs to protect people from, okay? Just…just let me tell him and at least give him some wolfsbane bullets or something to-“

“To what, Stiles?” Derek shouted. “To go after me and your best friend and your classmates? Hm? How do you think that’s gonna end? Melissa had to be okay with it because Scott is a wolf but you aren’t. Your dad doesn’t have to accept us; his only link to us is you and he could take you and run because he thinks he’s protecting you. And maybe he would be.”

Stiles stared Derek down, eyes brimming with tears. “So what I’m just supposed to go turn myself in? Derek, my fingerprints, Jeep, and _blood_ have been found at five different murder sites and I’m seventeen now. Do you know what that means? That means I can and will be tried as an adult and probably given the death sentence when I’m proved guilty.”

At least it looked like Derek flinched a bit at that, but he shook his head. “No, we’re leaving - all of us. Scott, Isaac, Erica, Boyd, Melissa, and you and I. We’re going to move up and settle in the northeast somewhere. Probably Nova Sco- why are you shaking your head at me? It’s the only thing that makes any sense, Stiles!”

“NO,” Stiles yelled, voice breaking as the tears fell freely. “No. I’m not just going to…to run, Derek. I won’t do that to him; I won’t do that to my dad. I’m all he has left anymore, okay? He already lost my mom, I’m not going to let him lose me too…at least not without knowing what happened to me.”

“So what then?”

Stiles stared at him desperately, searching those pale green eyes for something but obviously coming up empty. Derek watched as the younger man drew all his strength, scrubbing the tears from his cheeks, squaring his shoulders and standing up ramrod straight. Derek expected another argument, another yelling match that Stiles wouldn’t win this time; that he’d be forced to submit to under the Alpha’s command. But instead the human spun on his heel and took the stairs slowly.

“Where are you going, Stiles?” Derek demanded, staring up at where Stiles had paused at the narrow platform by the door. Stiles didn’t even turn his head.

“I’m going to turn myself in.” His voice didn’t even shake before his firm steps grew fainter and fainter.

—-

Stiles took the scenic route home on foot, mostly through the woods, trying to keep out of sight of anyone looking for him. When he got to his house none of the lights were on and the cruiser wasn’t in the driveway.

Comfortable in the fate he’d chosen he stuck his key in the lock and twisted, the faint sound of pins and tumblers turning before it clicked open. The door swung open with finality and Stiles knew it was the last time he’d walk through it. He closed it softly behind him and he didn’t bother locking it as he took a final stroll through the dark rooms. He lingered in his bedroom, running his hands over everything and crouching to pull a shoebox from the back of his closet.

He hadn’t opened it since he had put everything inside and shoved it away to be forgotten - only those things never really were forgotten were they?

He dusted it off and pulled the lid open. Inside were the last few things that he actually treasured in his life; things that were from a time when everything was simple and even when it wasn’t it came with warm feminine hugs, wide smiles, and caramel filled apple cider cookies.

First he pulled out the handmade pencil holder he’d made in kindergarten, all lopsided and messy and just godawful ugly as shit. He ran his fingers over the indentations and the messy engraving in the side, _Happy Mother’s Day!_ Except the ‘r’ was backwards and he’d forgotten a ‘p’ in happy. Then he took out the faded white handkerchief with the faded yellow flowers and lace trim and embroidered letter G. He ran his fingers over it as tears fell. He took out several other small things, leaving the best for last. He pulled out the letter gingerly; just a few fragile baby blue pages that were the last words that Genevieve Stilinski had ever written; the last thing she had left for her only son to remember her by. He unfolded the pages and stared at the loopy, shaky cursive; ran his fingers over the faint impression marks left there. He clutched them in his chest, falling onto the floor and letting himself sob finally.

He’d always known, deep down, that he’d die for these wolves since the day he figured out what Scott really was. Of course, he also figured it would’ve been with more glory, at the hand of some cold blooded killer and that his death would mean life for somebody else; though of course it did mean life for somebody else, for a lot of somebody elses. He’d always known he would protect those goddamn fucking wolves til the day he died. He just hadn’t expected to have to choose to do it, to walk into it knowingly, without a gun to anyone’s head. As it were, he was walking to his death now, surely. The evidence would somehow link him to all of the murders and he’d give no protest; hell, he’d write and sign the fucking confession.

He picked himself up, tucked everything back into the box and pushed it back into his closet before sitting down at his desk. He pulled out some paper from his printer and picked up a pen to write his letters. He wrote one to Scott first; it wasn’t very long, but it was everything he’d ever wanted to say to him. How sorry he was that he’d dragged Scott out that night and brought this on him, on them, on everyone; how thankful he was to have Scott as a best friend when no one else would be; how much he loved Scott for everything he’d done for Stiles.

He wrote one for each of the betas next, even Jackson and Lydia and Allison. Then he wrote one for Derek. He told Derek how even when he was a Sourwolf, Stiles liked him; how special his smiles were and that he should do it more often; not to be too hard on the pack as this would be hard enough already; not to feel guilty about it because if Stiles really wanted he could tell his father but he wouldn’t and this was his choice, no one else’s; that no one was going to hurt him again, not ever, not like Kate and Peter had because the people left cared about him and would protect him to the death; he ended with the words he’d tried to find words for since they’d first met and Stiles had known he was done for. _I love you, Derek Hale. Remember that._ It was all he had left to give them all, besides his life.

Stiles walked carefully back down the stairs and out the back door into the small backyard. He climbed up the ladder that consisted of half-rotten planks nailed to the large oak up to the tree house that the Sheriff had helped Scott and Stiles build after Mr. McCall had left on the Never Ending Beer Run. He hid the letters in the secret compartment he and Scott had constructed in the floor when they were eight so their parents would never find the things they’d snuck out. Stiles knew the wolves would follow his scent here and Scott would know where to look.

He walked back through the house to the front porch, turned on his cell phone and dialed 911.

“911, what’s your emergency?” the dispatcher asked, sounding worn out and tired.

“I’d like to report a sighting of Stiles Stilinski on the front porch of the Stilinski residence,” Stiles said as he sat himself down on the first step just like he had with his mother in the fall evenings like this one.

“Are you sure it was him?” she asked, sounding torn, like she really hoped it wasn’t.

“I’m positive,” he assured her.

“How do you know?”

“Because…” he took a deep breath. “Because I’m him.”

He hung up before she could say anything. It wasn’t long before the sirens could be heard in the distance. He set his cell phone aside, folded his fingers together and hung them between his legs while he watched the stars in the navy blue cloudless sky. Lights flashed at the end of the streets and the number of sirens blaring was alarming. He wasn’t carrying a weapon or a bomb or even a safety pin. It was just him in his khaki jeans and vneck shirt and plaid button down over it. His phone sat next to him and his pockets were empty.

He wasn’t surprised that it was the Sheriff’s car that was heading the brigade. Stiles knew his dad would want to handle it, would give Stiles a chance to explain and tell the truth and prove his innocence, because “Stiles couldn’t hurt a fly, John! You can’t take him hunting!” The beautiful soprano voice entered his thoughts unbidden, but he didn’t push it away like he had so many times before to stave off the pain. His time was going to be limited - days, weeks, months. Who knew how long he had to replay every good memory he’d ever had? Including those that hurt the most to remember.

His father got out of the squad car and it pained Stiles to see how cautious his father was, waving away his deputies whose hands hovered over their side arms uncertainly.

“Are you armed Stiles?” the Sheriff asked slowly, face pained.

Stiles snorted, standing up on the second step. He dropped his hands to pull out his empty pockets but as soon as he made a move for them the deputies’ guns were out and aimed at his head. He rolled his eyes and held his arms up. “Of course, I’m not dad. You won’t even let me carry pepper spray because of that one time I accidentally sprayed Billy Stevens in the face with it on the playground when I was twelve,” he retorted as the Sheriff patted him down with a pinched, broken look on his face.

“What happened, Stiles?” John asked his son as he waved his deputies away again. They lowered their weapons to point at the ground and kept their distance.

Stiles just shrugged. “Shit happens,” he offered lamely, wincing at the only words he had to give his father in thanks for the last seventeen years of his life.

“Did you kill those people?” the Sheriff asked, searching his son’s face. Stiles stared at him for a long moment before shaking his head. “Do you know who did?” Stiles’ face became desperate, pleading with his father not to make him answer it. “Stiles, just tell me. You can trust me. You know you can trust me.”

Stiles nodded his head, biting his lip as tears sprang to his eyes. “I know, dad, I know I can,” he assured him brokenly, tears spilling.

There was a slight scuffle and Stiles’ glance flicked up to see Deputy Roberts holding Scott back behind one of the squad cars before flicking back to his dad.

“Then just tell me, son. Just tell me who did it,” John begged.

“I can’t, dad, I can’t,” Stiles cried, shaking his head furiously. He held his wrists together and out, looking away. “Just arrest me, dad. You have to.”

“Stiles-“

“Just do it, dad, just do it,” Stiles insisted, stumbling down the final two steps to stand firmly in front of his father, shoulders squared once more. They were only about five feet from the back door to the cruiser.

John Stilinski stared at his son, tears on both of their cheeks and two pairs of eyes rimmed in red. “You have the right to remain silent,” John told him, voice cracking as he slipped the silver cuffs on Stiles’ wrists gently, closing them just tight enough that Stiles couldn’t get out of them but not tight enough to hurt.

Stiles nearly broke when his dad finished reading him his rights, placing a hand on the back of his head, in the same place where he used to rub his hair soothingly when his mom was in the hospital, and then when he had panic attacks, and then when he got good grades, and made the lacrosse team, and just did anything that was good; how it used to mean comfort and love and I’m proud of you. But now that hand was there to protect Stiles’ head from injury as his father helped him into the back seat of the squad car.

“Why can’t you just trust me with this, Stiles?” the Sheriff whispered brokenly.

“I can trust you dad,” Stiles whispered back and the door slammed shut. “I’m just trying to protect you.”

Stiles leaned his head against the glass as they pulled out of the driveway. He met Scott’s eyes as they passed but Scott didn’t seem too troubled, the bastard. Stiles closed his eyes then - against the tears, against the town flashing past him, against the look his father would be wearing in the rear view mirror. He focused on a face far away, a face that he hadn’t seen in so long and that he would soon be met with once again. A white smile and pale brown curls and whiskey brown eyes invaded his lids and he could have sworn he smelt the faint scent of sunflowers and caramel apple cider cookies as he was whisked away to his fate.


	2. Letters and Confessions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles writes the pack some letters.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This isn't new, I'm just making the second part of the series into the second chapter since it didn't work last time. Sorry for any hopes that have been dashed. I'm working on the next part as you read this.
> 
> I'm extremely sorry for taking so long on this. I didn't really expect myself to take this long. I've been going through some stuff in RL and this sorta took a backseat for awhile.

Stiles grumbled softly as he was escorted into an interrogation room. They sat him in a hard uncomfortable chair and left him alone to fidget with the handcuffs around his wrists. He stared solemnly at the two way mirror he was facing and awaited his fate. 

Eventually one of the new deputies, who Stiles didn’t know very well, came into the room and set a file on the table before taking the seat opposite the young boy.  
“Hello, I’m Deputy Beldress,” the man introduced himself after a long moment of silence. 

“Shouldn’t you be meaner and not so friendly? I mean, they are accusing me of five homicides with no clear purpose or motive. Shouldn’t you be yelling questions at me as to why and how?” Stiles retorted smoothly, face completely devoid of emotion. 

“ _Did_ you kill those people?” Beldress asked, raising a thick brown eyebrow. 

Stiles closed his eyes and took a deep steadying breath before he met the deputy’s gaze. “I’d like a lawyer,” he said simply, holding his ground. He knew his rights.  
The deputy frowned and gave him a sad sympathetic smile before he patted Stiles’ folded hands. “Okay, I’ll see to it that the court appoints you the most competent attorney they have.”

Stiles wanted to roll his eyes but he refrained. He knew that he’d be treated much differently if he weren’t the sheriff’s son. He knew that they were being nice purely for his father’s sake, that if he were any other quintuple homicide suspect he’d have been slammed around and yelled at a lot more. 

The deputy helped him up and escorted him back to his cell, the bars clanging loudly in the otherwise silent room. Stiles moved to the little cot with the flat mattress and lowered himself onto it with a sigh, settling in to stare at the grey ceiling for the next indeterminable amount of time. 

\--

Derek was staring blankly at the wall, his hands gripping the undershirt he’d been wearing before Stiles left that he ended up pulling off when his skin itched too badly to keep it on. He hears the sound of a car’s engine and several thunderous heartbeats before the door above him is being thrown open and all of his betas and their humans come tearing down, all of them trying to talk over each other. Derek only caught snippets here and there. 

“Derek, there were police-“ 

“And they took him-“

“They think he-“

“Those five people-“

“The Alphas though-“ 

“Not his fault, dude-“ 

“Break him out-“

“Go northeast like we had-“

“Can’t just let him-“ 

“Save him right-“

“Need to go now!”

Eventually the pack stopped so they could gulp down huge lungfuls of air, dragging oxygen roughly into their deprived bodies. Derek waited a few minutes as their breathing evened out and became less erratic before he spoke.

“I know,” he said quietly. “He was here.” 

Scott sniffed the air and Derek saw the recognition on his face. “Well what did he say? Did he tell you he was going to turn himself in? Did you tell him about our plan to leave?” Scott’s heartbeat never had slowed down and probably wouldn’t until his friend was on the safe side of the bars. 

“I told him, but he wouldn’t leave with us. He…he’s got his dad. He said he didn’t want to leave him with questions,” Derek answered quietly, resuming his death glare at the wall. 

“Well we’ll just take his dad with us. We can explain everything and then no one will have to leave,” Scott reasoned, his expression wild and grasping at straws.  
“We can’t tell the Sheriff, Scott,” Derek told him seriously, green eyes flicking up to look at his betas. 

They were all taken aback by Derek’s firm statement and all was quiet. 

“Why the hell not?” Lydia demanded angrily, actually stomping her foot like she was one of those girls in a bad chick flick. 

“Melissa knows,” Boyd added unhelpfully, his voice and expression calmer than anyone else in the room even though his rapid heartbeat gave him away. 

“That’s different. Scott is a wolf; she had to be okay with it, had to accept it. Stiles isn’t a wolf and his father doesn’t have to be okay with it. He could very well turn against all of us,” Derek explained slowly as if he were talking to a group of children. 

Scott snorted and the entirety of the pack rolled their eyes causing Derek to growl. 

“You’re a bigger idiot than I gave you credit for,” Erica commented lightly, shoulders relaxing as she lifted a hand to examine her blood red nails. Boyd tried to hide a smirk as he nudged his mate’s hip in slight warning. 

“You do realize that Stiles’ father adores Scott and Isaac like they were his own sons, right?” Lydia asked pointedly, raising a perfectly shaped brow as she leaned into Jackson’s side. 

“Not to mention how he thinks Lydia and Allison are the sun and stars themselves,” Jackson snipped, rolling his pale blue eyes. 

“He thinks Boyd is the coolest thing since sliced bread,” Erica added proudly, beaming up at the dark skinned man beside her. 

“He…sorta tolerates Jackson,” Allison added behind a suppressed giggle.

“Plus he’d never do anything to make Stiles upset,” Isaac chimed in. “He’s a good person, Derek.” 

“Well what do we propose we do?” Derek snapped angrily, thick brows crinkled together in irritation. “You think I wanted him to turn himself in? You think I wanted him arrested? You think I want him… _dead_?” Derek choked on the last word as it tumbled out of his mouth. 

“We…tell…the sheriff,” Scott said slowly, dragging out the sentence and taking his turn to sound like he was talking to a child. 

“What and just shift? Give him a heart attack? I’m pretty sure Stiles wouldn’t be too thrilled about that,” Derek retorted. 

“God, you’re such an idiot,” Lydia grumbled in irritation and heard Derek’s warning growl to step off. “Oh get over yourself. You’re the Alpha, we get it. You’re also the Alpha who let Stiles walk right out of here and into the not-so-welcoming arms of his imminent doom. So get off your high horse and let’s go.” 

The betas were trying to smother grins and snickers at the way Derek seemed to shrink in Lydia’s wake the way she was hovering over him and glaring. Derek seemed to sense their amusement though because he straightened up and let out a loud growl at them, pale green eyes bleeding into a dark angry crimson that made them sober instantly. 

“What’s your plan?” Derek demanded on the verge of growling.

“We find the sheriff and explain the situation. We can get Danny to hack into the station’s security feed to cut it off for a few minutes while we switch the evidence against Stiles with evidence against the Alpha pack that are conveniently lying under dirt and wolfsbane after your ‘epic battle.’” Lydia informed him like it was obvious and placed a finger to her cheek while she stared at the betas’ - and Derek’s - looks of _oh-why-didn’t-I-think-of-that?_ “God, what must it be like to live in your tiny little brains? I need Stiles back pronto. He’s the only one smart enough to keep up with me. JACKSON! You’re driving; there’s no way I’m running through the woods again. These are new shoes.”

“That I bought you,” Jackson grumbled lowly. 

“Because you made me run through the woods,” Lydia pointed out in a singsong voice, rolling her eyes. “C’mon, Alli.” 

Allison took Scott’s hand and tugged him along as she followed Lydia and Jackson up the stairs to the door where Lydia paused to look over the railing at the hesitating betas and Derek. 

“Well are you coming to tell the Sheriff or are we doing it alone and taking all the credit for saving Stiles?” Lydia demanded pointedly, hand on hip. “I’m pretty sure that won’t get you laid, Derek!” 

Derek grumbled - no he most certainly did not blush - but made for the stairs, his betas falling into step behind him. 

“We’ll meet in Stiles backyard if his dad isn’t home yet. We can’t very well hang around on his front porch for the neighbors to see,” Lydia said as she paused by the passenger door of Jackson’s BMW (his Porsche had been totaled in an unfortunate run in with the head of the Alpha pack).

Derek crossed the street and into the concealment of the forest, trees rising up like sentinels around him and the betas following behind. Derek didn’t pause as he took off at a brisk run, reaching into himself to let his inner wolf have reign. He could feel rather than hear the betas doing the same; canines elongating, nails turning to claws, hair sprouting, bones cracking as they slid into new formations, and skin bubbling as it remolded to the new bone structure. Derek could feel the shimmer in the air with their shifts, something different, something magical and…charged, like the glimmer of light before it disappears. 

The run is somehow strengthening instead of draining; causing Derek’s heart to pump faster and new energy to spread through his muscles. The air is crisp and cool, filling Derek’s lungs with a taste that was distinctly…fall. It tasted like cinnamon and earth and pine and pumpkin and apple cider. 

They darted across roads where they wouldn’t be spotted and behind empty houses. Luckily their way was pretty much unobstructed by too many open spaces, allowing them to stay concealed by tall trees for the majority of the way. They slowed down to a walk as they came to the forest across from the Stilinski’s home, pausing to shift back to human - that charge present in the air again - before they crossed the street right as Jackson was pulling up to the curb. 

The driveway was empty and the house was dark; empty. No one said a word as Scott led them around the house to the side gate into the backyard where they’d wait. Erica sniffed the air first. 

“I smell…there’s a fresh scent path here,” she decided, as she looked around. “Stiles was here within the last three hours or so.” 

Derek nodded in acknowledgement and watched as Scott peered up at an old rickety looking tree house high up in the boughs of an ancient looking oak tree. The beta started up the makeshift ladder and disappeared inside. 

“He left us letters!” Scott called down a second before he leapt down from the opening to land on the balls of his feet. He straightened up as everyone crowded around him. “Lydia…” Lydia snatched hers up and moved away from the group to open the carefully folded pages. “Erica…” Erica didn’t even move before she had hers open and was reading the words carefully. “Isaac…Allison…Boyd…me…and Derek.” 

Derek snatched his from the hand of his beta and moved across the yard, perching on the small back porch. He unfolded the pages with more care than he’d ever given anything. Stiles’ handwriting was messy, letters scrunched up and running together. Derek took a deep breath and read the words in front of him.

 

 _Dear Sourwolf,_

_You know why I’ve turned myself in. Thank you for the offer of running away, of being able to start somewhere new with everyone else, but I couldn’t do that to my dad. He’s the only family I have left anymore. And I’m the only thing he has left at all besides his job. I can’t just disappear without a trace and leave him wondering what happened. And you’re not allowed to ask me to do that. It was bad enough for the both of us to lose my mom, even with the closure, even with knowing what happened, even with getting to bury her. It would be worse for him to go through it again without knowing what happened or why or getting closure. If I left, my dad would drink himself into an early grave, and I’m not about to let that happen._

_Don’t blame yourself for this okay? It isn’t your fault. In all honesty, I could out your little werewolf asses if I wanted to. I could have told my dad everything despite you telling me not to. But you’re right. I’m not a wolf and he doesn’t have to protect you and I don’t want him to take me away from you guys and this place. I don’t want him to run you out of town because this is your home and theirs, all of ours. This is where we all grew up and I won’t ruin that for all of you. This was my decision and I stand by it. I will always stand by it. It was my decision to turn myself in. It was my decision to confess. It was my decision to tell my lawyer to plead guilty. And it will be my decision to take the punishment I’m granted. So please don’t blame yourself for this. My death won’t be your fault._

_Don’t be too hard on the pups okay? This will be hard enough on them as it is. I know I’m not really pack but I appreciate that you guys treat me like I am. You all mean a lot to me and I’ll carry you with me til the end. I’ll carry all of you in my heart. (God that sounds awful cheesy. I’m so sorry. -_-)_

_Trust the pack, Derek. I know it might be a hard concept for your emotionally constipated mind to grasp, but they…we all care about you. We’re not going to hurt you like Kate did by killing your family, or like Peter did by killing your sister. (Seriously, you need to get on that Peter thing. I think it’d help for you to land a good solid punch to the side of his head, knock a few fractures into his skull for being a creep, okay? Do you even know where he is?) The pack needs you and you need them. And the only people left around you are there because they care._

_Scott looks up to you even if he won’t admit it. You helped him be a better wolf. Erica loves you like the big brother she never had, like the big brother who took all her health problems away. You gave her something amazing and she’ll stand by you to the death. Boyd looks at you like a friend because you are one. You gave him friends and a new family and that was all he ever wanted. Isaac looks at you like a father because his was shitty at being a dad. You took him out of an abusive home and gave him someplace new to call his own; someplace where people care about him and love him. Jackson came to you because he was insecure and you gave him his security back. He’s slightly less of a douche because of you and he got Lydia back, so he pretty much owes you. They’ll all protect you to the death, Derek._

_I know we’ve had our differences, but I’ve sort of grown to like you, ya know, even when you’re being a Sourwolf. Your actions are sometimes misguided, but I know you’re a good person and you only ever try to do what’s right. Even when you don’t know exactly what that is._

_Did you know you have a nice smile? Not your creepy smile that you use to distract and flirt with unsuspecting female police officers (I mean seriously?), but the real one. I know you don’t think anyone sees it, but I do._

_I see it when Lydia makes us have our Friday Fright Nights at Jackson’s and everyone’s piled together and things are good. I see it after Saturday morning pack trainings when the pups are rolling around together in patches of sunlight like the idiot puppies they are. I see it on Sunday afternoon barbecues when Jackson’s standing at the grill and Boyd’s chasing Scott and Isaac and Erica around the trees while Allison, Lydia and I lounge on your porch. I see it when things are good and peaceful. I see it. It’s this small, thoughtful, almost reluctant twist at the corners of your lips that seems to actually reach your eyes. (Those are nice, too, by the way. Very symmetrical and…nicely colored.) You should smile more often. If anything, it would freak the others out. I know you love to do that._

_You’re a good person, Derek. Thoughtful and strong and (way, WAY deep down) kind. I know you care about all of us, all of them. You take care of them and give them a purpose. Thank you for making me feel useful and important even though I don’t always feel like I am. I mean, I can’t shoot arrows or guns like Allison; and I can’t translate Archaic Latin like Lydia. But you always make me feel like my opinion is relevant, like my ideas are good ones (okay, at least better than Scotts, amirite?). Thanks for bringing us all together, Derek._

_There’s just one last thing I want to tell you okay? I always imagined I’d say this to your face someday. Maybe after one of our yelling fights when you accuse me of not caring about myself and that I shouldn’t push the big bad Alpha out of the way and take claws to the chest when I can’t heal like you can. I always imagined I’d yell back at you, “Well I did it because I love you, you fucking idiot!”_

_But this is me saying it now, okay? I love you, Derek Hale. Remember that._

_Take care of the pack. Take care of Scott especially. (We both know how much of an idiot he can be.) And take care of yourself especially._

_Yours always,_

_Stiles Stilinski_

 

Derek choked back his emotions, clutching the papers tightly in his hands as they crinkled under his grip. The whole pack perked up at the sound of tires on asphalt and the flash of headlights that swept over the side of the house as the cruiser pulled into the driveway. Derek stood, pulled his emotions together and moved to stand in front of the pack, all of whom fell into a loose formation behind him. Boyd a little behind him and to Derek’s right with Erica clinging to the beta’s hand. Scott was a little behind Derek with Allison at his side, Isaac behind them. And Jackson and Lydia stood together behind Erica and Boyd, Lydia holding Jackson’s hand though he angled her a little behind him. 

They listened to the sound of the Sheriff stepping out of the car and closing the door. He paused, probably looking at Jackson’s car before he approached the house. His footsteps were slow and heavy on the stairs and then through the house. The Sheriff didn’t even stop to hang up his jacket or unload his weapon before the backdoor was being pushed open. John Stilinski paused as he took in the sight of the seven teens and one adult gathered before him. He blinked a few times and heaved a sigh. 

“I assume you’re here because of Stiles. Though why you chose to congregate in my backyard I do not know. Also what I don’t know is what Derek Hale is doing here. But I’ve had a long day. It’s three am and I’m exhausted. So say what you came here to say and then get the hell lost.” John’s voice was thick and heavy with exhaustion so Derek was about to speak when Lydia stepped forward, ignoring Jackson’s reaching hands. 

“John, you should probably sit down,” she told him. “Do you want to talk in the dining room?” 

Allison stepped forward also but Scott didn’t reach for her in the way Jackson had reached for Lydia. “C’mon. I’ll make us all some coffee,” she suggested, looping her arm through John’s and pulling him back towards the door. 

Derek sighed but followed, his betas falling into step behind him as they walked through the house. Derek couldn’t remember ever walking into the Stilinski’s house. He’d only ever climbed in through Stiles’ window and left the same way. Lydia sat down with John at the long mahogany dining table that Derek thought was too big for just two people; though at one time Derek imagined it was cramped with others and the happy laughter of family. 

He knew Stiles didn’t have any more family outside of his dad and a few cousins in Minnesota whom they were no longer close to. Scott had told him that John was an only child and Stiles’ mother had a sister who died of leukemia when Stiles was four, Mrs. Stilinski following ten years later of the same cause. But he knew Stiles had to have gotten his penchant for taking care of people from somewhere. The house must’ve been filled with people, his parents friends for Superbowl barbecues and college students with nowhere to go on the holidays - Genevieve had been a college English professor at the small university just outside of town before she fell ill.

“So, get on with it,” John sighed, breaking into Derek’s musings as he accepted a steaming mug of plain black coffee from Allison. 

“We know who committed the murders,” Lydia stated calmly, voice smooth and slow as she spoke. 

John perked up, face surprised as he leaned forward on the table. “I knew it. That dumbass kid. Who was it? Who’s he protecting?” 

“He’s protecting us,” Derek told him softly, gaze firmly on the floor. 

“You? All of you committed the murders?” John asked skeptically. “I mean, I know you’ve got the whole serial killer look about you, Derek, but I didn’t fully believe you killed that g- _Laura_ , then and I don’t believe you killed anyone this time.” 

Derek winced at the mention of his sister. “No, none of us killed those people. It just…it’s a lot bigger than you think, John,” Derek insisted, looking up into the man’s piercing blue eyes. 

“Well by all means, son, enlighten me.” John waved a hand in front of him, urging the others to get on with it. 

“John, we...well, not all of us we; not Allison, Stiles and Lydia, but the rest of us,” Scott motioned around to himself, Boyd, Isaac, Erica, Jackson and Derek. “We are…erm, not exactly…human.” He flinched back waiting for John to explode. 

He didn’t though, he just looked suddenly exhausted and put out again as he heaved a large sigh. “This isn’t time for your comic book stuff, Scott. I’m sure you’re all trying to make me feel better by getting me to laugh or something but, it’s not working so. I’m going to bed now, alright?” 

“John, listen,” Lydia urged, pulling him back into his seat when he tried to get up. “They’re telling the truth. They’re not human. You can always tell if I’m lying right?” John nodded when she waited for him to respond. “Well, tell me if I’m lying now. They are not human.”

“Okay…so what are you then? Vampires?” John rolled his eyes and slumped against the back of his chair. 

“Werewolves,” Derek answered softly, eyes taking on a strange tint before John watched them bleed crimson. 

“You’re shitting me right now aren’t you?” John asked, raising a brow. 

Everyone in the room shook their heads no; all of them looking as serious as heart attacks.

“We can prove it,” Isaac piped up, standing up and moving beside Derek. 

John was wide eyed as he watched the boys and one girl line up about eight feet in front of him before…shifting. The sound of horrible cracking filled the room and skin was melting to conform around differently shaped bones and hair was sprouting and teeth were elongating and eyes were shifting colors; Derek’s were still that startling shade of crimson while Scott’s, Erica’s, Boyd’s, and Isaac’s were amber and Jackson’s were electric blue. They held up hands to showcase long, thick, razor sharp claws and the Sheriff had to blink a couple times to make sure he was actually seeing it. 

“You weren’t joking…” is the first thing he managed to say before letting out an angry huff. “Is this why Stiles has been lying to me and sneaking around and failing at being sneaky while he washes blood and mud out of his clothes? And why _you_ ,” he shoves a finger in Derek’s direction, “have been sneaking into his window at least three times a week? Oh yea, don’t think I didn’t know about that mister. I’m not the Sheriff for nothing. Not to mention I’ve seen you passed out on the floor next to his bed like a guard dog - wow that phrase has new meaning now - with his hand over the edge of the bed in your hair. And that reminds me! My son already spent eight years pining after _her_ ,” he shoves a finger at Lydia who has the decency to look sheepish. “So don’t make him spend another eight pining after you. You either reciprocate or you don’t. Give him an option so he can move on already! Jesus Christ. Genevieve would not believe this right now. Actually she probably would and she’d probably handle this a lot better than I am. Fuck. So how’re we supposed to get Stiles out? Are the people who murdered those others like you or are they like vampires or something? Are there such a thing as vampires?” 

The pack let John rant for a few minutes. It was only natural for his brain to be trying to work things out and if the process seemed to need to be let out vocally, they’d let that happen. So it seemed Stiles got his babbling abilities from somewhere after all - Lydia and Scott had remembered his mother to be very soft spoken and sweet, speaking when necessary and doling out words of wisdom and comfort when needed but not excessively. 

Finally John started to lose his vigor and his words slowed down to Lydia took it as her cue to step in. 

“John,” she said softly, laying a gentle hand to his shoulder and making his words cut off. “We have a plan to free Stiles, but we’ll need your help and we may have to break a few laws to do it.” She measured his expression but it was eager and grasping at straws. 

“Anything, anything you need to help my boy,” he assured her, them, and reminding the pack of a little puppy eager to please his master. 

“The people who did this, the wolves,” Derek began, drawing the sheriff’s attention, “We eliminated them. They were a pack of Alphas, like myself, not easy to kill normally. But they wanted revenge for someone my family was forced to eliminate years ago. The wolf my father killed was the brother of one of the Alphas, and when a wolf seeks revenge he does not stop until he secures it or dies trying. It made them reckless and easy to capture. They wouldn’t surrender so we killed them, as a last resort; it was painless and as humane as possible, I assure you.” 

John wanted to say something about the fact that this man had just confessed to an unknown number of murders to an officer of the law, but instead could only manage to feel grateful to the man for taking care of the threat. “So how do we save Stiles? How do we prove it wasn’t him?” John asked, looking around for answers he wasn’t getting. 

“A friend of ours is good with…computers, technology,” Jackson answered calmly as the wolves began to shift back to their human features. “He can hack into the police station’s security feed while we switch the evidence against Stiles with evidence against the Alphas. We’ll need you to get us an inventory log of all the evidence so we can gather the same and we’ll need the official police supplies as well.” 

John nodded fiercely. “It’ll take me at least until tomorrow night. I’m being kept away from most of the case related things and if I show up again tonight they’ll be suspicious.” 

“Okay, just make sure Stiles does not confess and does not plead guilty, because that will be hard for you to get rid of without it looking suspicious,” Lydia added. 

“And tell him that you know, so that he won’t tell his lawyer that he did it either okay?” Allison piped up. 

“Tell him he’s a stupid shit for turning himself in and I had a plan,” Derek growled, eyes flashing red again momentarily. 

John stared at Derek for a long moment but finally nodded at all of them, looking down at the now-cold cup of coffee in front of him. “I think…I need some sleep to take this all in,” he announced slowly, brows furrowing as his brain struggled to keep up with all the information he was being thrown. 

“Of course,” Allison nodded quickly, standing up. “I’ll wash this up. Did you eat anything for dinner? Stiles would want you to eat. I can whip you up something real fast.” 

John shook his head and gave her a small smile, laying a hand against the side of her cheek. “No, but thank you sweet heart. You’re a good friend to Stiles, a good person,” he told her and kissed her forehead earning him a watery smile. 

“We’ll all do whatever it takes until he’s safe again, John. I promise,” she whispered, touching the hand he had on her face. 

He nodded and smiled again before moving to Lydia. He stroked her hair and kissed the top of her head. “Be safe, honey,” he whispered against her copper curls that were pulled back into a pony tail for once. 

“I will, John. We all will. You too,” she replied, getting on her tip toes to kiss his cheek and then giving him a quick squeeze around the middle. 

There was a line then, the werewolves a little more hesitant but loosening up after the Sheriff laughed and pulled Scott into a tight hug, mussing up his dark locks. 

“You’re an idiot, but I love you,” he told the teen patting the side of his cheek. 

Scott grinned his little puppy grin that, even with everything he’d been through, he hadn’t ever lost. “Love you too, dad,” he replied easily. It wasn’t the first time he’d called the sheriff dad. 

Isaac was next and then Erica who hugged him for a long moment and gave him a face full of curls for his troubles. He kissed her temple and rubbed her back before Boyd cut in and they did their secret handshake. Jackson stepped forward and gave John a hug which he’d never done before but John wasn’t complaining; Jackson was a good kid once he got over himself and got a serving of humble pie, which Lydia served to him frequently. The last one left was Derek who was waiting by the door to the foyer with his hands stuck in the pockets of that leather jacket he never seemed to be without. John stepped forward and offered his hand. 

“Derek,” he said somberly, face stoic as the werewolf reached out to grasp the older man’s hand. “Thanks for looking out for my boy. I owe you a lot of thanks.” 

“I didn’t do it just for you, sir,” Derek responded gruffly and the sheriff smirked. 

“I know,” he agreed, winking at the younger man. He turned back to the room. “Someone let me know what’s going on tomorrow. I’m not due back to the station until the afternoon.” 

“I was thinking I’d stay the night actually,” Scott said, looking hesitant. “I want to be near his things. His scent…it calms me down.” The rest of the pack was nodding fervently, even the two human girls, before Scott was even done speaking. 

John smiled softly. “As long as you let me sleep I don’t care where you stay, just keep it down. You know where the blankets are, Scott. Goodnight.” He waved a hand before heading up the stairs, sighing heavily and sounding incredibly tired. Damn. It was going to be a long day when he woke up.

**Author's Note:**

> Don't hate me! There will be another chapter up but is currently in the works(:
> 
> Leave a comment? c:


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